


Good Game

by gwennolmarie



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arm Wrestling, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Drabble, Fluff, Gen, Reconciliation, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Emotional Tension, because of course, chapter one? two? idk, i guess, oh thanks ao3, tiny bit o unrequited in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: “Come on, Johnny, it's been years, you don’t think you have even the slightest chance?”





	Good Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red-dead-eye](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=red-dead-eye).



> inspired by https://red-dead-eye.tumblr.com/post/185183217097/i-bet-arthur-loves-humiliating-john-at-arm

John rubs at the scarred side of his face lightly, the rough edges, deep grooves.

A recent paper is on the table in front of him but he can’t quite focus on it, his eyes drawn elsewhere.

To Arthur, as the older man speaks quietly with some of the gang, laughing easily at a passing joke.

“Well, I’ll talk to y’all later,” He hears Arthur say before the older man moves to unload the sack slung over his shoulder, dusting off his hands and wiping his brow.

John looks back down at the paper as Arthur glances at him.

His eyes roam the lines of text but nothing sticks in his head.

“Y’oughta stop scratching at that,” Arthur says as the older man sits across from him, bottle in hand.

Outer shirt gone, suspenders shoved off.

John blinks at the older man then slowly lowers the hand from his face.

Arthur snorts and takes a deep drink, looking around lazily.

John turns the page as he realizes he’s been re-reading the same one for far too long.

“Anythin’ interesting?” Arthur asks, leaning both elbows on the table to read upside-down.

“Not really,” John mutters.

He can feel Arthur’s gaze burning into him.

The older man shifts and sets his elbow on the table firmly, reaching forward to knock his knuckles against John’s forehead causing the younger to flinch back.

“Jesus, Arthur, what?”

“Wrestle me,” Arthur says, wiggling his fingers of the arm he has in position to arm-wrestle.

John squints at him.

“You know I’d never beat you, never have, other than when you let me win.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and wiggles his fingers at John enticingly.

“Come on, Johnny, it's been years, you don’t think you have even the slightest chance?”

Arthur bites back a smile at the firey challenge he sees light up the younger’s eyes, knowing he’s baited and sunk the hook flawlessly.

John sets the paper to the side and rolls his sleeves up before setting his elbow near Arthur’s, shifting forward in his seat to plant his boots firmly on the ground.

He unclenches his fist and when Arthur takes his hand he realizes this is one of the first times they’ve touched amicably since their fallout, not just out of necessity.

He swallows and ducks his head briefly, squeezing the older man’s hand.

“Three,” Arthur says quietly and John looks up to the see the older man smiling at him eagerly.

“Two,” John mutters, tightening his grip.

“One,” The older man whispers and immediately applies pressure.

It’s been a long time since John’s done this and his grip falters in surprise before he struggles to counter Arthur.

Arthur teases him by pushing harder and lighter, letting John briefly think he has a chance before retaking the dominant position.

“Christ,” John hisses when Arthur really cranks up the pressure and he feels the burn in his upper arm.

Arthur chuckles and takes a sip of his drink casually.

John can feel his face flushing in humiliation and glances around briefly but none of the gang seem to be paying attention to them.

Arthur toys with him for a few more minutes before looking John dead in the eye and pushing the younger’s hand flat to the table.

“I win,” Arthur says casually.

“Shut up,” John grumbles and looks down at their hands with furrowed brows.

Arthur goes to sit back but John keeps ahold of the older man’s hand.

He looks up at Arthur hesitantly and squeezes, seeing the older man’s face scrunch up in confusion.

John holds tightly for a few seconds then lets go quickly, bringing his hands into his lap.

Arthur’s watches him intensely for a few moments before the older man clears his throat and pats the table, standing up.

“Good game, John,” Arthur says, voice warm, giving a small smile and a smaller salute before walking away to resume his chores.

John covers his face with one hand briefly, fighting the heat in his cheeks.

He grabs the paper back up and sits back to cross his legs, no more able to focus on the text now than he was before.

 


End file.
